Hubby stood in the kitchen, gearing up to wash some dishes, and began to grumble about our tiny kitchen. “I hate this kitchen!” he declared. I immediately knew this was unwise and told him not to say such things, but he didn’t take his words back. 

Later, as he washed dishes, he sliced open his knuckle on a spatula(!!!!) and had to go get stitches. After he left I walked into the kitchen, curious to see how a spatula had managed to do such damage. I briefly considered chiding the sink and dishes, but then I recalled Hubby’s sharp remarks and understood. 

My tiny galley kitchen may be less than ideal, but it’s still a sacred space full of magic; don’t mess with a witch’s kitchen!

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